Who am I?

In college, a friend who was probably five or six years older than me had me take the Myers-Briggs personality test. I got the halfway point for almost every category. She said, "Take it again in a few years when you know yourself better."

Last year, at my First Real Grown-up Job, I took it again as part of a company activity. I took it twice. The first time I was INFP. The second time, I was INTP. So I apparently vacillate between being the "true idealist, always looking for the hint of good in even the worst of people and events, searching for ways to make things better" and "the philosopher, the architect, or the dreamy professor."

The fact that three of my traits remained steady seems to indicate that maybe I know myself better than I did four years ago. I'm a little more secure in my identity.

So who am I? And why do I care what some personality test says about me?

I have a pretty severe problem with comparing myself to others. Sometimes it's harmless, like when I try to emulate the heroic fictional characters I feel connected to. Sometimes it's really dangerous for my mental health, like when I post something on social media for the sole purpose of getting likes, or when I scroll through photos on the internet and think "Why can't my life be exciting like hers? Why can't I have my crap together like she does?"

Now the easy answer is "They have problems too, just like you, social media doesn't tell the whole story," but that doesn't work for me. I'm an observer, and an analyzer. I am always going to be watching others, learning about their lives, reading their blogs. I'm always going to watch movies and read books and figure out how to apply their messages to my life while the person next to me thinks "That was a good movie!" and leaves it at that.

I've been told that my nature as an observer is bad, that I need to participate more. Well, yeah, I can certainly try writing my own book instead of just reading them, or I can make my own crafts to sell instead of admiring others'. But that's not going to change who I am.

This year, instead of trying to force myself to become a different person and then being disappointed and even harder on myself when I fail, I'm going to try accepting myself the way I am, and learning to celebrate that.

And so, in order to accept myself, I need to know myself.

Myers-Briggs says I'm a mediator or logician. The color test says I'm a yellow. Pottermore says I'm a Gryffindor. My degree says I'm a journalist. My job says I'm an editor. My parents say I'm smart. My husband says I'm pretty. My cats say I'm fun to sit on.

And what am I not? I'm not a photographer. I'm not a blogger. I'm not an artist. I'm not a hipster. I'm not a decorator. I'm not a social media guru. I'm not a chef. I'm not a mental health advocate. I'm not an activist. I'm not an adventurer. I'm not a free spirit. I'm not a singer or musician. I'm not a poet. I'm not organized (as my mom, roommates and husband know all too well).

When I try to be those things, I get disappointed. I don't live up to the idealized version of myself. And it's tiring. It's exhausting to never measure up to your own standard of what you should be.

Here's what I actually am: I am an animal-lover who eats meat. I am a driver who turns the car off when I'm waiting to pick someone up who keeps forgetting to bring reusable bags grocery shopping. I'm a person who can't exercise unless I'm watching or listening to something. I'm a married woman who isn't ready to have kids, but who refers to her cats as her babies. I'm someone who loves going on vacation, but always feels like she needs to rest after. I'm someone who has never left the United States, but dreams of traveling all the time. I'm the person who goes to the pool or the beach and spends the whole time reading a book and getting sunburned. I'm a shopping enthusiast who balks at spending more than $20 on a piece of clothing. I find sports incredibly silly, but weep openly during a Star Wars movie. I saw Frozen six times in theaters, but was disappointed with Moana. I follow blogs religiously, but never let the writer know I'm reading them. I watch Parks and Recreation five times in two years because it makes me happy. I desperately want people to need me, then get annoyed when I feel like I'm being taken advantage of. I discuss the dangers of social media, then get a thrill when someone likes my photo. I want to blog so I can maybe reach out to others and make the world a better place, but the only subject I know how to discuss is myself. And I write really, really long blog posts.

I'm not the person I may wish I was. But I am the person I'm supposed to be. I think that person is good enough for my friends and family. She should be good enough for me too. And I'm going to try really, really hard to appreciate and celebrate her.